The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Low-hanging storm clouds cast a golden light over a retro-futuristic, abandoned drive-in theater, like it's late afternoon, with old, rusted speaker poles standing sentinel beside cracked, overgrown parking spots. Umm, a flock of iridescent birds are roosting in the drive-in's massive, rusted screen, while others weave through the structure's framework like it's not solid at all. The air's heavy with an electric charge and a sweet, honey-like scent wafts from the projection booth, where a crystal formation is visibly unfolding into a miniature, crystalline replica of the Sephirot.